Remember Us
by Coke Cam
Summary: Jane's birthday should mean parties and celebration, but since Charles Hoyt's final attack one year ago her only wish is for the nightmare to end. As the anniversary of the attack approaches, Jane realizes that she's not the only one suffering, but when she presses Maura to confess what's bothering her, she finds out more than she bargained. (Rizzles-not that angsty really)


A/N: For Miss Maclay who told me to never stop writing. (See how that worked?) And big, big thanks to Sideadde for making sense of some serious quagmire.

Specific references to ep. 2x10, "Remember Me"

* * *

Det. Jane Rizzoli pressed the doorbell a second time and stood back. She craned back to peer at the upper windows, looking for a shifting curtain or any flicker of movement. It wasn't likely that her best friend would be out at a society benefit or hosting an intimate dinner party, not without mentioning it, but Maura had been acting like anything but her usual self lately. Maura was still courteous and polite as always, but there had been a subtle coolness in their interactions as if she had become more distracted by the day.

Jane's hand had come to rest on one hip, brushing her jacket back to let her badge show unobtrusively. The gesture was unconscious, simply how her reflexes leveled up to Defcon 2. There were three more levels, culminating in forced entry through a window which she hoped wouldn't be necessary. It wasn't as if she'd never come barging in before, but she had wanted to give Maura a chance to voluntarily answer the door and open things between them, physically and symbolically, tonight.

_Tonight_.

She swallowed hard at the word, at the date and all that it implied. 365 days ago they had been...

Jane pressed the doorbell again and stood back.

Ordinarily she might have attributed Maura's preoccupation to work, but their cases had been blessedly routine. Any attempts to engage her friend had been met with brief, distracted responses. Text messages went unanswered, calls weren't returned, and yesterday Maura had walked right by her in the cafe without even saying hello.

_You know what's going on_, Jane's mind whispered. _You know because it's happening to you too and you know why. Just look at the calendar._

_Tonight_

Every night for the last year she had managed to shove the fear down and bury it inside, holding on until morning but now it was refusing to stay submerged. Images, thoughts, flashes of fear were bobbing to the surface and beginning to invade her waking hours as well. It reminded her of a much scarier version of that game she and Frankie had played during summer vacations at the arcade—Whack-a-Mole—and no matter how hard and fast she hit back, the images kept popping up again.

For months, Jane had suspected what she needed to do and had even gotten a number of unmistakable signs that it was time to face up to the issue, including one just that morning from her mother.

_"Do you know if anything's bothering Maura?" The words came out quietly and almost plaintive. _

_Angela had materialized in the corner of the cafe where Jane was sitting over coffee by herself, trying not to think how much better breakfast was when she had someone to share it with, preferably her best friend._

_"No," Jane lied, "but if you're holding out on me I could kill you and then you'd be in the morgue and you could ask her yourself."_

_Angela tried to think through the logic of that and gave up._

_"Sometimes we talk at night and she makes me this special tea, I can't pronounce it, and we chat and it's nice, but she's been going to bed early all week and there's always a reason she can't talk. I wanted to ask her what she thinks you want to do for your birthday and she said she had to get Bass's weekly mud bath ready. Don't you think that's a little weird?"_

_Actually Jane thought that made perfect sense given Maura's own personal interest in mud baths. "Well, Maura's a little weird, we all know that."_

_Angela rolled her eyes and one hand moved up to her apron-clad hip. "I don't mean normal-weird-Maura, I mean I think she's worried about something and trying-to-hide-it-Maura. I didn't want to embarrass her, but I caught her on the couch the other night."_

_"With who?" Jane yelped._

_"No one."_

_Jane felt her face go bright red as her mind gleefully interpreted the situation in the most_ _inappropriate of all possible ways. "So? I-I mean," she stammered, "you used to catch me on the couch when I was in high school, y'know, watching R-rated movies or sneaking beer or..."_

_Angela's stubborn scowl deepened. "I think she was napping and she had a bad dream. Her eyes looked like she'd been crying and she tried to hide it from me, but I'm a Mom, y'know."_

_"Really?" Jane deadpanned._

_"Yes, really, and if you three taught me anything it was how to spot a lie. She was upset and worried and she looked scared. Don't you care about Maura? She's your best friend—you two love each other like sisters."_

_Jane's shoulders slumped as she resigned herself. "Yeah, Ma. Just like sisters."_

_At least that was one lie her mother had never detected._

The front door opened beneath Jane's hand as she went to bypass the doorbell and simply pound on the frame. Hesitantly, Maura peered out from the shadow of the door.

"Hey!" Jane forced a grin. "Behold..." She flexed her hand, opening and closing her fingers. "I stood at the door and knocked."

Maura gave no sign that she caught the joke but simply stared back, frozen, until she shook herself almost imperceptibly.

"Jane, hello. I'm sorry, did we make...? I must have forgotten. Forgive me, I'm not..."

"You look great and you know it."

That was something of a lie, at least in comparison to Maura's usual standards, but Jane was actually reassured by her slightly disheveled appearance. Her dark blonde hair was loosely pulled back into a messy ponytail and she was wearing a pair of dark green silk pajamas with long sleeves that fell slightly over the wrist, giving her the look of a little girl still growing into her clothes. Maura obviously hadn't been expecting anyone, even the pizza deliveryman, and that realization sent a burst of relief through Jane.

The one lurking option that she hadn't been able to eliminate was the possibility that Maura might be distracted by the start of a romantic relationship. Given how the last few had gone, it wouldn't surprise her if Maura kept that information to herself for a time. But as she had told herself repeatedly in low, fierce mutters, it wasn't the idea of Maura dating that bothered her...it was the idea of Maura dating anyone besides herself. She had been unbelievably slow on the uptake for a detective, but in the last year their deepening emotional intimacy had led to idle musings and finally one very un-idle sex dream that had left her frustrated and flustered for days. There was no other conclusion—her feelings for Maura were much more than friendly and there was absolutely nothing she could think of to do that wouldn't endanger the most important relationship she'd ever had.

Jane realized that if she waited for Maura to invite her inside then they would still be standing there when the paperboy arrived, so she angled her lean frame to slip into the house. As much as it killed her to agree with her mother about anything, Angela had been right—something was very wrong with Maura and it didn't take a detective or a mother's intuition to spot it. When she had seen Jane on the doorstep, instead of relaxing and stepping back, Maura had actually stiffened as if seeing her best friend was the very last thing she wanted.

She didn't just look tired; she looked afraid.

"We didn't have anything set up," Jane said, gentling her voice. Now that she was in the door, she didn't need to charge around like the proverbial bull in Maura's immaculate china shop. "Earlier Ma was trying to get me to do something for my birthday and I finally convinced her to lay off for once by telling her we already had plans. I really did want to come over tonight though. I've been trying to catch you for the last couple days and we kept missing."

Maura didn't answer immediately, as if just the effort of listening had taken a toll. She had removed all her makeup for bed and although Jane thought she actually looked even more beautiful now, her eyes were sunken in dark circles. She looked frightened—no, Jane corrected herself, haunted.

_And that's what you saw in the mirror this morning when your remembered what day it was._

Maura had walked back into the kitchen and was needlessly wiping off the countertop, keeping her head down. There was a teacup there, still gently steaming as it steeped, and she carefully steered around it.

"You know you're always welcome, Jane. I think your mother came home a little while ago if you'd like to see if she wants to join us. She had mentioned a program she recorded and wanted to watch although I'm not certain it's something that would interest you."

Jane struggled not to smile in spite of herself. Maura was a terrible liar of course but even more obvious when she resorted to evasion. "No, I just wanted to see you. Is that OK?"

Maura's head popped up while her hand continued to scrub, completely unaware of itself on autopilot. "Now? I-I was going to have an early night, I didn't get much sleep this week, but you're always welcome to stay, Jane, always."

"Yeah, I know—I didn't sleep much either." Jane moved around the kitchen island and covered Maura's hand with her own until she stopped moving and let go of the rag. She slipped one arm around Maura's shoulders and simply held her for a moment as if she could pass some fraction of her own strength through by touch alone. "I'm very Maura-centric," she teased gently. "I have this light that goes off on my dash when things aren't OK."

After a moment she felt Maura's breathing steady itself and her shoulders grew less hunched. "I'm sorry I've been distracted all week." Maura said it to the tiled floor as if she had offended it by not sweeping often enough. "I knew it was your birthday and I should have asked if you wanted to go out. I bought you a present but I didn't think you wanted me to make a fuss by bringing it to work. I can go get it."

"I came over," Jane said quietly, "because I didn't want to be alone tonight and it's not about my birthday. It's about...today. What happened last year."

One year ago tonight, she had nearly died, trapped and cornered one last time by Charles Hoyt, her nemesis, her stalker, her own personal boogeyman. Worse than that, most unforgivable of all, Maura had nearly died as well. Dear, kind, brilliant and slightly goofy Maura, who had only come along to help her friend face down the demon and had nearly been sacrificed on the altar instead.

Somehow though it had all gone wrong. Instead of time bringing them even closer as they healed, a barrier had grown up, like the scar tissue covering her hands. The wound had closed, but something had toughened and kept them isolated, inches apart behind one-way mirrors.

Maura nodded, the tiniest fraction, against Jane's shoulder and let out a shallow breath. "I didn't want to bring it up, in case it was easier."

And that was the problem Jane thought grimly. It was always so much easier not to talk about the scary things and just let them lie quiet, except they didn't stay that way.

Now after a year of hesitations, second thoughts, and false starts, she felt restless and unsettled, the way new skin did beneath a scab long past its time to drop away. It was her birthday—she should be grateful for another year with family and friends, but all she could think of was Hoyt's face, that scalpel, her scars, and all the nights he'd taken from her.

_But not anymore. She wouldn't let him have tonight._

Jane straightened, urging Maura to come with her out of the kitchen and back to the living room. She reached back at the last moment with one long arm to snag the teacup and brought it with her. Instinctively they sat and arranged themselves as like two odd-shaped puzzle pieces whose match only seemed obvious after the fact. Jane felt the warmth that came each time they were this close moving through her and building her courage.

"I've got a confession," Jane said.

Maura's arms were pulled in close to her sides as she held the teacup. It made her neckline do something that Jane couldn't afford to allow herself look at. She nodded, waiting, and then her expression went slack. "Are you the one who took Det. Crowe's stapler?"

Actually, yes, but if she admitted that to Maura then there was a very good chance that word would get back to the precinct and she wanted to keep the torment up for at least another week. Who knew he was so possessive about his office supplies.

Jane shook her head. "I know it was you who put that business card in my desk, the one for the counselor."

Maura's face went suspiciously blank and her eyes flickered to the coffee table and back. "Why...why would you say that?"

"Because only you would recommend a therapist who wears Prada and I know that because I went to see her. Three times so far actually, and we have another appointment next month when she gets back from skiing in Switzerland, another dead giveaway."

Maura winced on her way to a smile. "I wouldn't have," she said in a rush, "but I know how you hate seeing the department counselor and it can go on your record, which is _such_ an unfortunate stigma. If you were shot, would they hold it against you for going to the doctor? I..." Her voice dropped. "I hope it was helpful."

Well, Jane thought wryly, it hadn't taken long for the therapist to identify that the biggest issue in Jane's life wasn't a dead serial killer so much as one living, breathing medical examiner.

"It didn't kill me to talk to her," Jane admitted. "the only problem is that it's like pulling a cork out of a bottle and now everything that's been building up inside me can't go back in, and I think you feel it too. This whole week we've been like magnets, but not the kind that go towards each other."

Maura nodded matter-of-factly. "Opposite polarity."

"Yeah, exactly. I know we're opposites about lots of things, but we're really in sync underneath it all and I think that's why we're both losing sleep. Because of what happened last year."

_Tonight_.

Quietly, Maura nodded. One index finger had come to rest on the rim of her teacup, fidgeting back and forth. "I didn't know if you remembered."

Sometimes Jane was only teasing when she called Maura a dumb genius and at others she was ready to shake her by the shoulders. Not remember? Not remember being pinned on her back in the hospital bed, watching Maura crying and vulnerable, stretched out with a scalpel at her throat? Not remember the final desperate lunge to reach Hoyt, choosing to kill him instead of holding on for reinforcements? Everyone assumed she had done it for herself, to put an end to it all at last, but it had been even more so to protect Maura who had trusted and believed in her.

"I remember; I can't forget. We should have talked about it that night and I still can't..." Jane shook her head in confusion and disappointment. "I don't know how I let that happen. I guess I was just so shocked and numb at the time and they had to separate us to interview me because I killed Hoyt, even if it was line of duty. By the time I came home everyone was there waiting."

Maura slipped one hand forward to rest on Jane's forearm, soothing her with a single touch. "I should have tried harder to get Angela to change her plans, but she already had your apartment decorated that morning and it would have taken longer to take everything down."

"I still can't look at a damn pony," Jane growled. "I know Ma means well so she just plowed ahead and all she wanted was for everything to be OK so we had to put on a good face and I was too numbed out to fight it. But y'know all I really wanted to do was sit here with you, even if we didn't know what to say yet."

_It didn't have to be with words._

"I know," Maura said softly. From the expression on her face, Jane realized she was thinking back far before that day, to every time she'd had to press down her emotions for her family, each dutiful choice she'd made, every time she had held her tongue in front of her parents' society friends or played a part. It was all Jane could do not to make some awkward joke and remind her that she didn't have to pretend, not with the Rizzolis, and that she wanted Maura exactly as she was. But that would be using one issue to avoid the other yet again.

"So not that I'm any good at taking advice," Jane acknowledged, "your therapist recommended that I go back to the first time I met Hoyt and then work forward, trying to get everything out in case I was repressing anything. I don't want to carry Hoyt around in my head anymore. It's bad enough I've got him on my hands."

"How did that go?" Some flicker of Maura's natural curiosity couldn't help surfacing.

"Remember that time you made me eat raw oysters and I got food poisoning?"

Maura's face closed down, backing up a pace. "Now, we agreed we weren't _positive_ it was the oysters because I ate as many as you did and..."

"It was as fun as that was," Jane said heavily. "I've just spent the last two months paying someone to help me throw up the last three years of my life."

Maura subsided but still didn't look willing to accept responsibility for the oysters. "I'm sorry," she allowed. "I know that must've been very difficult."

Jane grumbled for another moment, buying time to gather herself for the next step. "Eventually I got up to the point where you were a part of this, when the first apprentice came after me and you went to interview Hoyt at the prison."

"Oh?" Half of Maura's face was hidden behind her teacup but she couldn't hide her eyes.

"Yeah, and since I wasn't there with you I got a copy of the interview transcript. I don't think I've seen anything with that much blacked out text on it since JFK."

"The airport?"

"No, JFK, the assassination report...they edited..." Jane groaned in exasperation. "Look, everything's in there until the end and then someone took a giant black marker and went to town. So I went back and got a copy of the original video."

Maura straightened suddenly as if burned. "The vid..."

"Easy." Jane put one hand on her shoulder, gently holding her back. "It's me, OK? You still can't hear anything from where he leans over and starts whispering to you—the mic's not that good. Look, I'd say it's not my business, but Hoyt involved you and that made it my business. What did he say to you that was that bad, Maur?"

Without realizing it, Jane had dropped her eyes as she spoke, looking down at her own hands as they clasped together. She only glanced up when the silence stretched out unnaturally. "H-hey...what's wrong?"

Silently, Maura Isles had dissolved in tears. Both arms were crossed tightly over her chest as she shivered with barely repressed sobs. Jane simply stared in shock for half a second before slipping both arms around her friend and pulling her close.

"Ssshhh, ssshhh, it's all right," she murmured. If Maura heard her, she gave no sign but buried her face against Jane's neck and continued to cry. "You're safe now," she said awkwardly. "He can't come back, I took care of it."

She let her hand pass over Maura's back, gently rubbing and reassuring but nothing seemed to help and she found herself rocking slightly, as if comforting them both. As minutes passed, Jane thought glumly that of all the times she'd imagined holding Maura this way, platonically or otherwise, in those fantasies Maura had never been crying hysterically.

"Please, honey, can you tell me?" Jane had laid her palm across the crown of Maura's head as if cradling her to draw them even closer together.

Maura shrugged, hiccuping slightly, and if Jane hadn't already been utterly in love she would have fallen instantly then. She quickly searched her jacket pockets and came up with a Starbucks napkin that was more or less in one piece and offered it up. Maura accepted gratefully and blew her nose.

"I'm sorry, I've just been so tired this week and there was the burn victim autopsy yesterday and..." She stopped to pull for breath. "...and it upset me more than I expected. I had to talk to the husband but somehow no one had notified him that the mother had already picked the baby up from daycare and they were both in the car, so..."

She let Maura talk, spinning out all the reasons she had been avoiding Jane, all the reasons except the real one. It was enough to sit close, taking in a surge of strength that she could only attribute to a restored connection between them.

"I know that was really upsetting," she said when Maura had trailed off. "And when you add it to today and what happened a year ago, it's almost overwhelming. It feels like there's nothing you can do because Hoyt's dead but he's not gone—it's like there's some kind of splinter he left buried in us that we never got out. I'm tired of it."

Jane sat forward, her voice deepening even more as Maura sat transfixed by her intensity. "I'm tired of it and of him and of him being any part of my life. I'll do anything I have to, Maura, I promise you that. Please, what did he say to you that was so bad it got marked out? If you're going to tell anyone, you can tell me."

Maura had finished her tea and Jane lifted the cup away as it was sagging in her hands. As she saw Maura's right hand lying upturned and limp across her lap, Jane raised her own left hand, elbow propped on one knee.

"There's no one who understands this better." She turned her palm forward and back, the shiny skin of the scars glistening in the light. She had Maura's attention now, but her forehead was creased in hesitation. Reaching slowly, she took Maura's wrist and raised her right hand to press against her own, bringing their palms together, finger aligned. She waited, simply feeling the gentle pressure of their matched fingers against each other.

She let out a controlled breath and said, "How about if I tell you what he said? I can't read lips, but I know Hoyt and I know how he works."

With the smallest of movements Maura turned her hand a fraction clockwise and their fingers slotted together, clasping.

_Okay._

"Hoyt told you what he was going to do to you because he wanted to see how afraid it made you. You're not a coward for being scared—you knew he meant every word and you knew he was capable of it. He told you that he was going to rape you," Jane said quietly. "He told you how, he told you exactly what he would do, and he made you feel like he'd already done it. He was going to do all of it with me watching a few feet away so you would feel like you might have a chance if I could just reach you. He wanted you to feel even more afraid as you realized I couldn't get free because he wanted to watch the hope dying out in you. He was going to turn your head and make you to you look at me while you died so the last thing you would see was how I failed you."

Maura had quieted, no longer sniffling. Her breath was coming more easily now, as if she'd finished a sudden sprint and was just now recovering. She had a look of resignation and for a moment Jane felt guilty for having pressured her when she was vulnerable from exhaustion, but if this was what it took to end this, then she would push them both.

"It's all right." Jane smiled and found that it came easier now. The worst thing that could ever happen to her had already happened and she was still alive. These ghosts were just empty echoes coming down a long dark corridor. It was time to shut the door. "None of it happened—it can't. He's dead. He was a liar, he always was."

"No," Maura said. For the first time that night her voice was clear and firm as she raised her eyes. Jane realized that while she might have pushed her friend to the point of revealing what was bothering her, this wasn't just a matter of some profanity and a crude threat or two.

Jane nodded and sat back, leaning one shoulder into the couch as she gave Maura her full attention.

"No, that's not what he said in the interview, although very close," Maura amended. "Actually, he told me that his intent was to rape you, and yes, he was very specific about it which is why I asked for the transcript to be redacted. He was going to make me watch and he said it was because you would be happy with him. He was convinced that you dreamed about him and he said," her head tilted in an ironic, disbelieving twist, "that he would make those dreams come true. He said I would have to die knowing that he..." Her voice jerked suddenly. "..._satisfied_ you and made you happy in a way I never could. He was going to have you and make sure I never did."

For all that Jane was staring intently at Maura, nodding with every other breath, the words brushed past her at first. It had been just another threat, but one more explicit it seemed than usual, and it had made refined, sophisticated Dr. Maura Isles of Beacon Hill uncomfortable.

Vintage Hoyt.

"I'm sorry you had to hear all that. He liked upper class women and trying to demean them, so you must've seemed like an ideal target." Jane tried to put the threat in perspective without dismissing the fear it had justifiably caused Maura. "He was crazy but he was good at getting in your head and that's why he's still dangerous—because we never got him out again."

But as she spoke, watching Maura's haunted eyes flicker and avoid hers, Jane realized that Hoyt's remarks had been far more than a game. If it had truly been an empty threat, something laughable to Maura and her analytical mind, then it never would have affected her this way. The only reason she would be reacting like this was if Hoyt had truly touched her deepest fear, and in that case...

_Oh my God..._

_Oh my..._

_Oh...Maura._

"C'mere," Jane murmured. She had shifted on the couch, easing one long leg out along the cushions and coaxing Maura to lean back against her. Without protest, Maura crawled into her arm and somehow tugged the blanket from the back of the couch after her, covering them both. She lay quietly as their breathing came to match as if the simple act of confession had cleared the poison from her memory. Jane began smoothing tendrils of hair back from her temples, a small gesture as her fingertips barely brushed the fair skin, but it seemed to calm them both.

"OK, my turn." Jane was surprised that her voice hadn't cracked by now but grateful for it. "Hoyt was smart and sick, which is how he knew how to manipulate things. He figured out how much you meant to me and that's why when he finally got his chance at us both he had the guard go after you first. He knew that would hurt me more than anything, but he screwed up."

"Yes, he did." The first hint of a smile had come to Maura's mouth, the finely chiseled chin lifting with pride as she shifted against Jane's shoulder. "He underestimated you."

"Actually...actually he overestimated me."

Maura's lips pursed, fretting over the logic. "I'm sorry, that doesn't make sense."

Jane took a deep breath, reached for her resolve and found it where she always had—in Maura's eyes. "Hoyt gave me too much credit. He thought I'd had enough courage by then to tell you what I was feeling, that I loved you as more than a friend. He understood even before I did how I felt about you. He thought we were together, as a couple, and that he could get to me through you."

Maura had begun to stiffen slightly in her arms but Jane refused to stop tracing her fingers against Maura's scalp. There had been one single drop of blood that night which had run down from the cut on Maura's throat and into her hair. Logically Jane knew it was long gone, but she didn't want to stop searching, letting each soft strand brush through her fingertips, until she was certain.

"It was a good move," she said. "If it had been true, if I'd had the guts to speak up and you'd been crazy enough to love me back, then his plan would've worked. I would've been paralyzed with fear. I would've frozen and acted differently, hesitated, unable to risk you. But I didn't think I had a prayer, so I was willing to die trying anything because I thought I had nothing to lose."

Maura lay perfectly still, one hand flat now against Jane's collarbone.

"What this therapist thinks is that I avoided talking to you that night because if I started then I would have had to admit how I felt and then I might really have lost you, the same as if Hoyt had killed you, and then...then I might as well have died too. Even if we're not together, officially speaking, you're still the best thing in my life and if this is all we ever have—hanging out after work and drinking tea and watching me turn into my mother—it's still better than anything I could have without you."

Jane wanted to sit up, to look Maura in the eye and take her hands or any of the other dozen things she'd imagined doing if she ever found herself finally confessing. In the end, all she could do was close her eyes and pray.

"So now I can't decide what I want to hear you say," she said thickly. "I can't stand the idea of Hoyt being right about anything, but if he was, if there was ever anything it was OK for him to be right about...I mean, I'd be all right about being wrong if...I mean..."

She was stumbling, trying to explain, and finally ran out of words—not because she wasn't trying, but because Maura was kissing her. It wasn't a kiss to simply quiet her babbling; it was confident, assured, and more than a little possessive. Without knowing it, Jane's hands had come up to cup Maura's jaw, then slid back to tangle in her hair and pull her even closer as they continued to kiss, urgent, blissful and finally out of breath.

Maura spoke first as Jane was sitting with eyes closed and a half-dazed expression on her face. "All I could think that night was that I was going to die without telling you how much I loved you. For every day I've regretted not saying it, if that's what kept us alive, then thank God."

"You knew?" Jane's eyes had cracked a faction and she was regarding Maura with hope and awe. "Why didn't you say anything? I mean, afterwards?"

Maura smiled, the first time in days, and the force of it sent Jane's heart pounding all over again. "You're the brave one, so when _you_ never said anything I took that to mean you didn't feel the same and this was all I could hope for."

"Brave?" Jane was alert and nearly squawking now. "You're the one who wears picnic pants. That's brave!"

Maura lowered her eyes and Jane couldn't tell if she was blushing from the joke or for what they had finally admitted to each other. "No." She shook her head and drew Jane's hand back into her own. With the tip of one finger she lightly traced the scar which sent Jane's lungs into emergency shutdown. "That's brave. And I'm glad you killed him."

"Yeah?" Jane managed, every nerve ending on fire. She slipped their fingers together again, feeling their palms meet as Maura's smooth, unmarked skin covered hers.

"Yes, and I don't care what Emily Post says, I'm not sending him a thank you card."

Jane blinked as the absurdity of their situation—owing Hoyt a debt of thanks like this—began to sink in. Slowly she began to laugh and she felt the knotted tension in her seep away as Maura began to laugh too.

"Deal," Jane coughed when she got her breath back. "No cards."

"Oh!" Maura half-sat and Jane whined a protest at the lack of contact. "I wasn't just saying that earlier—I really do have a birthday present for you and a card too. It's in the study, I'll be right back."

Jane's arms closed around her waist, drawing her back down onto the couch before she was fully upright. They twisted, turning as they collapsed together, so Maura found herself very unexpectedly looking up into the detective's dark brown eyes as their bodies pressed together.

"I know you remembered," Jane whispered. "But from now on, starting tonight, I just want this day to be about something good."

Maura's throat had gone completely dry as she found herself melting into a place where words were utterly irrelevant. "I have a few ideas about that..." she whispered as she guided Jane's hand to the top button of her pajamas.

And if Angela hadn't cornered Maura alone the next morning to ask what she had given Jane as a present, they might have managed to keep the relationship private for more than 12 hours. At least though, Jane thought, they had finally settled for the remainder of their lives together what she really wanted for her birthday.


End file.
